The next hunter, a return customer, rolled in just as the late season weather came on.  After several days, he finally saw his buck, a nice 4×4, but the shot clipped branches and the hit went awry.  He lost the buck’s trail and went home empty-handed.

The next three hunters came as a group.  I heard earlier this week from Dave that they’d wounded and lost one on Saturday, and then wounded another on Sunday.  Word came later that they’d found the wounded one and put him down.  And here he is… I didn’t get measurements, but from the picture that may be one of the best racks to come off the ranch.

If the weather permits, the rest of these guys will be back at the ranch next week.  We’ll see what happens…

Well, I’m back.

It was an eventful couple of weeks at Coon Camp Springs… too eventful, in fact, for me to simply summarize the hunts in a single post. Instead, I’ve decided to write up each hunt separately (although there’s a great connection between the first two).

Click Here to view Part 1

Click Here to view Part 2

Here’s the final part, then… hope you enjoy it!

The waxing moon was the biggest concern for our next hunt.  David Brown would be arriving on November 1st, and the moon would be completely full on the 2nd.  Way up in that country, a full moon lights up the night like daytime, and the deer stay active all night long and then bed up during the day.  The only bright spot was my hope that the moon would also help kick off the rut.  Nolan’s buck had been chasing does three days earlier, and on the Saturday before David’s arrival I glassed up a really nice 4×4 leading a harem of does, so things were looking really positive on that front.  As long as the moon didn’t screw us up, I had hopes that we’d see a pretty good hunt.

I was in Reno when David arrived on Sunday, so Dave (Allen) would take him on the tour, and go over to the shooting bench to check out his rifle.  I thought they’d also go ahead and hit the field for a little while before I got back, but they decided just to relax in camp and wait for me.  The hunt would start Monday morning.

Over dinner, we talked about the last couple of hunts, and I told David about the big 4×4 I’d seen.   I described what I thought was the best strategy to get on him, just sitting on a glassing point and waiting as long as we could stand to sit there.  A lot of western hunters can’t sit still for hours, but with the deer moving consistently over the same area, the longer we could stay put, the better our odds of getting a shot on that buck.  David assured me he loved glassing and sitting, so the plan was made.  We had a great dinner of elk and pheasant, and headed off to bed with visions of big bucks dancing in our heads.

Monday morning’s hunt was a guide’s dream come true.  

We rolled out of camp after a quick breakfast.  It was just after shooting light when we left the truck, and quietly slipped down the hill toward my spot.  As always, I was watching the ground as we moved, and noticed a dark spot in the frosty grass.  A deer track was cut sharply through the frost and the dirt… a big one.  I pointed it out to David and he nodded.  More fresh tracks were scattered around the area, and all headed in the same direction as we were moving.  We slowed the pace, and crept along with our senses on high alert.

As we reached the point of the little finger ridge, I stopped to answer nature’s call before we left the cover of the trees.  I mentioned to David to be ready, because I bet the deer would already be down here feeding.  Just as I started to step behind a juniper to tend to “business”, David raised his glasses and immediately hissed, “Deer!”

Basic needs temporarily forgotten, I spun around and raised my Leicas.   Sure enough, there were a group of does coming off the edge of a ravine at about 500 yards.  As I watched, I saw antlers topping the rise.  They seemed to keep coming, until the rest of the buck came into view.  There was no question here, this was a shooter buck!  I estimated him at around 26 inches wide.  David looked at me, and I nodded.  We needed to get set up quickly.

In speaking with David earlier, he talked a lot about shooting on elk and antelope, and I was a little concerned he was going to push to take the 500 yard shot right away.  I would push back, but I hate having to do that.  As it turns out, though, he was way ahead of me.  “I really would like to get within 300 yards at least,” he whispered.  “That’s too far for a good shot.”

I nodded.  “Let’s sit tight and watch them to see what they do.  They usually feed up that ravine, which’ll put them right under us.” 

I’d no more said that than the big buck suddenly started bee-lining away from us, heading toward the neighbor’s fence.  “Crap,” I thought.  “So much for that!” 

Then he reappeared, pushing a small doe ahead of him and herding her back to the harem.  I breathed a sigh of relief, confident now that they’d at least stay in the area.  David slid down the hill to a spot beside a little pine tree where he had cover and a good rest.  I eased out onto a ledge with a big rock for cover.  We were a little further apart than I’d usually like to be, because it was hard to communicate, but at this point I had enough confidence in David’s hunting experience to trust him not to do something foolish.

For a while, the deer gave us a show equal to anything you’d ever see on the Outdoor Channel.  The buck worked the does, harassing them and checking each one to see if they were ready for breeding yet.  The rut was just starting, however, and of course none of the does was receptive, but that didn’t stop that buck from checking and re-checking.  The whole time, he kept the little herd close together and within his sight.  “I think he’s keeping them away from another buck,” I whispered, but David was oblivious…totally wrapped up in the show taking place below us.

Sure enough, as we watched another big 4×4 came slinking onto the scene.  He eased around upwind of the herd, but as soon as he saw the big buck, he trotted off over the hill, obviously intimidated.   I could tell David was enjoying this scenario as much as I was, but I was also feeling the stress of the long wait.  The buck was still hanging out at between 450 and 500 yards, and while some of the does had moved closer up the ravine, the rest were still mingling up and down the hillside.  I began to think about other ways to move up and get closer for a shot, but the risk of spooking some of the does and blowing the whole thing kept me from leaving our spot.  Patience pays, and everything was looking like the deer would come to us if we just waited long enough. 

As if the current level of excitement weren’t enough, I caught a glimpse of movement above the herd of deer.  That other 4×4 had come back.  The does were too enticing for him to resist, apparently.  He began to circle around the herd, but this time the other buck spotted him and stepped up to the challenge.   In all my years of deer hunting, I’ve yet to actually see bucks fight and it looked like this might be my chance. 

Both bucks were fairly equal in antler width.  The dominant buck had a much larger body, and appeared to be a 3×3, but the challenger had more of a classic four-point configuration.  Either would make an excellent trophy, and I was hoping that the scuffle would drive one or the other closer to us for a shot.  The face off continued, but the smaller buck would not get close to the bigger one.  I could hear the snort-wheeze and grunting from all the way across the meadow.  Finally, the smaller buck  moved off about fifty yards and bedded down in the sage.  His head and neck protruded, but at 452 yards, it wasn’t a shot David wanted to take, nor was it one I’d have recommended.  We’d wait.

The big buck drove his does further up the ravine.  The closed deer were now within 350 yards of us, but the buck stayed down in the bottom of the cleft, always just out of sight except his massive antlers.  The smaller buck stayed bedded as the herd moved away, but we kept an eye on him.  Sooner or later, we both knew temptation would get the better of him and he’d get up to follow those does.  If things went well, he’d circle around the edges, and walk right under our position. 

Finally, with several of the does now grazing to within 275 yards, the 4×4 stood up.  Unfortunately, instead of coming directly toward us, he followed the path of the herd of deer into the ravine.   As I watched him, David realized he had a decision to make.  “Which one should I take,” he whispered? 

That’s a tough one.  “The big one looks like a 3×3, but he’s got a much bigger body.  The other one is smaller in the body, but he has a beautiful rack.  Tough choice.”

David considered, then made up his mind.  “I’m gonna take the 4×4.” 
The buck crossed an open spot at 375 yards, and for a moment I thought David would take the shot.  He held off, and the buck disappeared again.  Meanwhile, the other buck had driven his does up onto the dirt road, following a cattle trail that would take them up onto the ridge and into a bedding area.  Once they crossed the road, they’d be out of sight.  I took a quick range on the road.  250 yards!  David could make that shot.  I turned again to look for the 4×4, and spotted him in a clearing about 275 yards away.  He was standing broadside, stretching out to get a whiff of the does… a perfect shot opportunity.  “There’s your shot, David,” I hissed, and noticed that he was already settling in behind the scope.

I held my breath for the shot, but it didn’t come.  I looked down to see David’s head up off the rifle, and he was adjusting his hat.  The buck was still posed on the hillside, still offering a perfect, unobstructed shot.  Why wasn’t he shooting?  “Kill it,” I whispered, my patience stretched to the breaking point. 

The buck moved again, into the brush, and then stepping out into the open once again, even closer.  I saw David drop down to the stock and steady the rifle against the pine tree.  “Here we go,” I thought, and studied the buck, ready to spot the shot.

The .300 Weatherby Magnum cracked, and I waited to see the impact on the buck.  There was nothing!  The deer’s head popped up, alert, but he stood steady.  “Shoot again,” I said.  “You missed him!”

I looked down at David, and he was grinning up at me, giving me the thumbs-up sign.  It took a moment for it all to click.  The other buck had been out of my line of sight, but David had a great angle on him and took it.  “You shot at the other one, huh?” I grinned.  “Did you hit him?”

“He went right down!” David said, jubilant.  “I think I drilled him perfectly!”

I stood and walked down toward him until I could see the deer, stretched out on the hillside.  “Nice job!”

After high fives, we decided that David would walk over to the buck, to make sure he was down, and then I’d go get the truck and bring it around.  The deer was down within yards of the road!  “Just keep your eye on him when you walk over,” I warned.  “A lot of times, when you knock them flat, they tend to jump up on you when you get close.” 

“I think he’s dead,” David said, assuredly as he started down the hill.  “He’s not getting up.” 

“Well, just be ready.”

As David came to within 25 yards or so of the buck, I saw its head come up.  “Kill it!” I shouted.  “Don’t let it run!”

I doubt that he heard me, but he knew what to do.  The buck clambered to his feet and turned to run, and David shouldered his rifle.  I saw the muzzle flash and the bullet impact before the report reached me, and the buck went down again… for good this time.  I watched until David reached the deer and waved at me, and then took off to get the truck. 

When I rolled up on the spot, David was grinning.  “He was a 4×4 after all,” he told me.  “And no ground shrinkage here!”

Sure enough, the buck had a nontypical conformation.  His G2 and G3 were normal, but then he had what appeared to be a G4 and a G5 on each main beam, neither of which forked.  A check with the tape showed him to be 26 ½ inches wide on the outside, which is pretty darned good for around these parts.  We did some pictures, more high fives, and then I got him dressed and loaded into the truck.   By 10:30 on the first day of the hunt, I had the buck caped and ready for the butcher. 

My work was done!   Three hunters, three bucks, and all three were great stories in their own right… the epic trailing job, the father/son moment, and the great display of rut behavior.  With a self-guided hunter taking the field for the end of the season, it was time for me to pack my gear, clean up the cabin, and head for home. 

As I write this, we have a self-guided hunter at the property trying to fill the last of our four PLM tags.  Dave (Allen) is up there with him right now, showing him around and getting him oriented.  I’ll provide an update on his hunt as soon as the word comes in. 

In the meantime, we’re going to start planning for the 2010 season.  I know it’s early now, but for anyone interested in a private land, late-season, guided and outfitted hunt in the X3A zone, we’ve got just the thing for ya at Coon Camp Springs.  Drop a line for more info, and we’ll give you as much info as we can.  

Stay tuned for the 2009 Coon Camp Springs Mule Deer Hunts wrap-up.

Well, I’m back.

It was an eventful couple of weeks at Coon Camp Springs… too eventful, in fact, for me to simply summarize the hunts in a single post. Instead, I’ve decided to write up each hunt separately (although there’s a great connection between the first two).

Click Here to view Part 1

Here’s the second part, then… hope you enjoy it!

When Nolan left with his father on Tuesday night, his plan was to get home, visit with his family a little bit, and then come on back out to the ranch on Thursday afternoon.  Tom said he might come back as well.  Even though he already had his buck, he wanted to be there when Nolan tagged out.  In the wings of the plan was the possibility that Nolan may bring his six year-old son back up with him to enjoy the hunt and camp, and possibly to see his father take a buck, just as Nolan had been there 35 years earlier to see his own dad tag out. 

With these plans in our minds, Dave Allen (President of the Coon Camp Springs non-profit org), Kat (my girlfriend and camp cook for the week), and I decided to take our downtime on Wednesday to get out to town and pick up some supplies.  We did some work around camp and headed up the hill to the highway.  Just before we topped the last ridge, a black truck came up the road toward us.  Nolan just couldn’t stay away!  I bailed out and let Dave and Kat go on to town.  I’d spend the evening hunting with Nolan and his son, Tommy, and see what we could do to fill that tag. 

With a six year-old in tow, the cards were stacked against us on this one.  On this property, there are a couple of ways to hunt.  One is to sit tight on a high spot and glass, and then either shoot or stalk for the shot.  That requires quiet, patience, and sitting still… none of which are exactly common traits among the first grade set. 

The other method is to still hunt slowly through the juniper thickets.  This is slow, silent going, and is difficult enough for a solo hunter.  With a couple of experienced hunters, getting close to a buck is a real challenge.  With two hunters and a youngster, it’s almost a guarantee we wouldn’t see anything except tracks. 

There is a third method, of course… road hunting.  While I’m not against the practice, and will do it from time to time, it’s not really something we encourage at Coon Camp Springs.  The terrain is pretty friendly, and there’s almost no place the most out of shape hunter can’t go on foot.  Besides, riding around in the truck isn’t the kind of experience most mule deer hunters are paying for. 

I had some decisions to make, and none of them looked promising.  This was gonna be tough and no way around it. 

Fortunately, Nolan was fairly realistic about our chances, but what he wanted most was just to share the time and experience with his son.  If we got a deer, that would be ideal, but if not, then at least the two of them would have a great time in the field.   I could really appreciate that, as it reminded me of those early days in the field with my own dad… memories that will last a lifetime.  I was determined to make the most of this hunt, no matter how hard it would be.

I got a pretty good taste of the challenge later that afternoon, as I led the two of them down to my glassing rock.  I figured the odds were that if we saw deer, they’d be in the distance… far enough away so that maybe Tommy’s fidgeting wouldn’t immediately blow them out of the county.  We got out there with a relative minimum of noise, although at a couple of points I had to tell Tommy to slow down and try to be “more sneaky”.  However, we hadn’t been settled on the rock a half an hour before the boy had to go to the bathroom… and not the kind you can do standing behind a tree. 

We hiked back up the trail and I looked in dismay at the rapidly sinking sun.   Back at the truck, Tommy suddenly decided he didn’t have to go after all.  After a flash of impatience, I remembered why we were here and the fact that he is only six.  I adjusted my attitude then, and actually found the whole thing pretty funny.  Since we were in the truck anyway, I suggested that we drive up onto a saddle-back ridge, and just sit until dark to see what came out.  Nothing did, but it was better than bagging the evening hunt altogether.

Before bed, Nolan had a little chat with Tommy to remind him the importance of being quiet and still.  With a promise to be quieter tomorrow, they settled into the bunkhouse until the crackle of the morning campfire rousted them.  Over breakfast we went over options.  I tried to be as clear as possible with Nolan that we’d be fighting an uphill battle, but if he wanted to, we could go back and sit the rock again.  He said he was cool with that, and we headed out. 

The temperature had fallen pretty sharply overnight, into the mid-twenties.  On the hike down to the rock, I was impressed by how careful Tommy was to be silent.  Even so, as we came out onto the rock a pair of cattle on the adjoining property spotted us and bolted, from over 400 yards away.  I watched carefully, but it didn’t appear that the slow elk spooked any deer in their progress. 

Even after we settled down on the rock, Tommy was doing a pretty good job of being still and quiet… at least for such a young guy.  I was pretty impressed.  Unfortunately, he had a cough that overcame his efforts and in the quiet morning, the sound was pretty explosive.  At one point, as I was watching a line of does from over 1000 yards, he coughed and the lead doe raised her head in alarm, peering straight at us.  They didn’t spook, not from that far away, but it was a pretty good illustration of what we’d be up against. 

Nolan and I tried to show him how to cough into his elbow, but he didn’t quite grasp what we were after.  Again, I felt the surge of impatience.  We’d never see a deer like this, much less shoot one.  But I pushed those feelings down, keeping in mind that this wasn’t my hunt.  This was Nolan’s hunt, and if he wanted to spend it this way, then that’s what we’d do.  My job was to do the best I could with what we had to work with and show them a great time.

Besides the coughing, everything was pretty good for about two hours.  Then the cold started to get to the youngster.   To his credit, he maintained as well as he could, but he couldn’t take anymore.  With tears in his little eyes, he turned to his dad.  “I’m cold,” he whimpered.  “Can we go back to buck camp?” 

We picked up and headed back to the truck.  The walk helped to warm him up, and by the time I got the diesel running and the heat coming through, he was pretty happy again.  “What do you want to do,” I asked Nolan.  “We could take a little hike.”

“No,” he said.  “Maybe we should just drive around a bit.” 

I rolled down the hill, and poked along the ranch roads.  One of the cowboys who’d been out rounding up stray cattle had mentioned seeing a “nice buck” on a particular ridge, so I figured it would be worth driving out to see what was around.  Besides, we hadn’t really spent any time hunting that side of the ranch yet. 

As the hill came into sight, I mentioned what the cowboy had told us.  The words had no more left my mouth than I spotted movement at the base of the hill.  Deer!  I hit the brakes and grabbed the binos.  Sure enough, a doe was coming off the hill into the sage flats.  As we watched, we spotted two yearlings with her.  They trotted out into the open, and then stopped to look back.  “There’s got to be a buck in the trees,” I hissed.  “Get ready!”

A moment later, a three-point buck came bounding out of the trees, hot on the trail of the doe and yearlings.  Only a few days earlier, we were seeing bachelor groups, but this was a definite sign that the rut was coming on.  I turned to ask Nolan if he’d like to take this buck, but he was already out of the truck with his rifle.  I climbed up on the side of the truck to glass.

The buck was moving too fast for a shot, so I bleated at him.  It didn’t seem to have an effect, so I let out another loud bleat.   I didn’t account for how long it would take the sound to reach him, but he suddenly slammed on the brakes and looked toward us.  He stood broadside, like a target.  I ranged him at 430 yards, but with the open ground all around him and after having seen some of Nolan’s shooting on some coyotes earlier, I decided to give the green light. 

It seemed to take forever for the shot, and I actually thought Nolan was having second thoughts about the range.  Suddenly, the 7mm Mag roared and the buck jumped, kicked, and took off on what we thought was a death run.  He went about fifty yards in a half-circle, then tipped over under a patch of bitterbrush.  I saw blood on both sides as he ran, and it looked good, but I decided to wait a few minutes before going down to collect him.

Just as Nolan started down, the buck got his feet and trotted a few more yards before collapsing into the sage.  I told Nolan to go ahead, and be ready in case it jumped up again.  After the experience with Tom’s deer, I didn’t want to take any chances with this one.   Finding and collecting the buck in the high sage brush was a bit of a challenge, but finally Nolan called out over the radio, “I need packers and skinners down here!” 

I drove the truck down into the flat, bouncing over lava rocks along the way.  Tommy, bouncing around the back seat was giggling like crazy at each hop.  He’d come a long way since his tears and frozen feet earlier in the morning. 

On arrival, there were high fives all around.  Nolan had accomplished his ultimate goal for the week… he’d taken his buck with his son along to witness the event.  The buck, a 17-inch 3×3 wasn’t what many mule deer hunters would consider a trophy, but there was no question from the smiles on both of those faces that this was a memory that would last a very, very long time.

The final hunt is coming up.  Hope you’ve enjoyed so far, as I sure had a great time hunting with all of these guys.  I also know these write-ups are a little long, but I hope that the background I include provides more than “just another hunting story”.

Well, I’m back.

It was an eventful couple of weeks at Coon Camp Springs… too eventful, in fact, for me to simply summarize the hunts in a single post.  Instead, I’ve decided to write up each hunt separately (although there’s a great connection between the first two).  Here’s the first part, then… hope you enjoy it!

The huge mule deer stood broadside… not 40 yards from where I crouched with my hunters, glassing the thick brush.   “I can’t see his head,” said Tom Henry, the senior of the father-and-son team.  “Is it a buck?”

His son, Nolan, whispered back.  “It’s huge, that has to be a buck’s body.”

“Does anybody see horns,” I asked? 

It seemed like we were standing there for several minutes before I was able to spot antler tines protruding well above the juniper branches that obscured the deer’s head.  Once I saw that, I was able to piece together the rest of the rack and head.  I had been looking too low… this sucker was big!  It was definitely what we were looking for. 

“It’s a really good buck,” I hissed. “Kill it!”

“Did he say it was a buck,” queried Tom?

“It’s a buck,” answered his son.  “He said, ‘kill it.’” 

“What,” said Tom?

“SHOOT IT!”

At the crack of Tom’s .270, the buck hopped and kicked out his back feet, then tore out through the brush.  His right leg was flopping.  To all appearances, it looked like a textbook shoulder/heart shot.  I breathed a sigh of relief, and started out to follow what I expected would be a really short blood trail to a really dead deer. 

The last time the elder Henry killed a buck with his son was almost 35 years ago, when Nolan was a youngster of around six.  They’d hunted together since then, but it seemed that Tom was destined to go home empty-handed every time he joined Nolan in the field.  This year he’d bought two of our PLM tags at Coon Camp Springs as a birthday gift for his son, both as an opportunity to spend that time together, but also as a chance to break that long, unsuccessful streak. 

This was the first full day of hunting with these guys, after spending the previous evening checking the zero on their rifles, touring the property, and scaring the coyote population with a few long shots.  Since we had a little daylight left, we even sat and glassed for a while before heading back to camp for a big dinner of wild boar sausage with apples and wild rice. 

At first light, we were back on that rock. Shortly after we settled in, I spotted some does off in the distance.  They were way off the property, but we watched them as they slowly worked their way toward our fenceline.  There were about eight or nine deer in the field, but no bucks that we could see (they were over 1000 yards away).  Suddenly, Nolan hissed, “deer!” 

I looked toward where he was pointing and saw the big bodies of two bucks on the ridge.  Through the Leicas, I was able to immediately make out a thick, wide, four-point rack on the lead animal.  The deer directly behind him was also a good buck, although his four-point antlers were a good bit thinner.  As the deer moved behind some brush, I spotted a third buck, not as impressive but decent.  The bucks obviously had an agenda to be someplace else, as they walked steadily across the hillside.  Nolan whispered back up to me, “I think I can take that front deer!”

I hit the rangefinder button and ranged the buck at 572 yards.  “Hold off,” I told him.  “He’s too far for a good shot.” 

Nolan chafed, but held his fire as the deer moved steadily along the sidehill trail.  “Come on,” I whispered.  “We might be able to close the gap if we go down this line of junipers.”

We slipped around, using the cover of the rock, and then the junipers to get closer to the ridge.  Unfortunately, by the time we got there, the bucks had reached the thick cover.  Since it was the first day, and the deer were unaware of us, I opted not to try to push into the thicket.  I’ve tried to stalk through that stuff before, and it’s almost impossible to be quiet.  If we pushed those deer out of the safety of their bedding area, I was pretty sure they’d just relocate across the fence onto our neighbor’s property.  If we left them alone, odds were good that they’d stay around and we’d get another shot at them later in the week.  Nolan and Tom agreed with my reasoning, so we decided to go back to camp, have a little lunch and then head over to another area that I knew usually held a buck or two. 

Nolan was eager, and we didn’t sit around the table for long before we loaded up and headed down the trail.  The mid-morning was warming up, and with the moon closing on full, I wasn’t really hopeful to see any deer on this little jaunt, but it was better than sitting around the cabin.  You can’t kill deer sitting by the fire.  Besides, a lot of great deer are taken when most hunters are napping the mid-day hours. 

As we moved down the logging road, I felt the wind shifting.  A look to the western sky showed clouds growing pretty fast, and the wind picked up rapidly.  My original plan had been to still-hunt about a mile and a half to the fenceline and then make a long loop back to the truck, but the rising wind and gathering clouds suggested a change in plans, especially since we hadn’t even packed lights or rain gear. 

With the wind practically roaring, and a definite feeling of rain or snow in the air, I decided to cut the “walk” short and head into a spot I call “Holly Springs.”  I know that there are good bedding areas there, and I usually see a couple of good bucks here every season.  The tracks around the road testified to the fact that there was something pretty big running around.  Usually, though, the area is too thick to try to stalk through, even hunting solo.  With two hunters in tow, I’d never even try to walk through this spot under normal conditions.  But with the wind making so much noise and blowing the perfect direction, I felt confident that we could work the area… as long as we took it slow and easy. 

Before we entered the thick stuff, I told Tom and Nolan to chamber a round and be ready.  Nolan declined and nodded to Tom.  “I trust you,” he said.  “You go first.”

I put Tom slightly ahead of me, and we started into the junipers and mahogany.  I think Tom thought we were just gonna cruise through to the truck, and I had to slow him down a little.  “We’re going to be right on top of them,” I warned.  “We need to go real slow.”

We hadn’t gone fifty yards into the woods when we encountered the buck, Tom’s shot, and the subsequent tracking job.  As I mentioned, I was confident that we were trailing a dead deer.  The shot had been so close, and the deer’s reaction was textbook.  The deer slipped over a rock wall, and I was sure we’d find him down in the tangled brush. 

But we didn’t.  What we found was a slight blood trail… very slight.

Tom was shooting a .270 Winchester, loaded with 130gr Core-Lokt ammo.  With a chest shot (which is what I thought we were seeing) there should be blood splashed all over the landscape.  The fact that we were only seeing drips and splotches made me a little nervous.  But I’ve seen weak blood trails on well-hit deer before, so my confidence didn’t wane too much.  We followed, but the blood got more and more sparse. 

Finally, about 200 yards from the shot, as we stood over a tiny blood droplet, I glassed the nearby trees and spotted the white face of the buck looking back at us from under a juniper.  He was only about 65 yards away at that point.  At first I thought his head was up, but then saw that the thick antlers appeared to be tangled in the branches.  Nevertheless, I told the hunters to be ready, and move up slowly while I moved around to the side for a closer look.  It was looking good, and I was happy for it to end this way… less than fifty yards from the road. 

You probably already know what happened next.  The buck wasn’t dead.   Nolan started to take a shot from head on, but before he did I made the mistake of asking Tom if he was going to mount this deer.  If he was, a shot in the forehead with Nolan’s 7mm Magnum would have been hard for a taxidermist to repair.  This made Nolan hesitate, and the deer lurched to his feet.  Before Nolan could recover, the buck was off on a dead run.  Even with only three legs, these deer can move! 

The escape told me two things.  One, the deer was definitely not hit in the chest… or anywhere else vital, for that matter.  The second thing was that we were in for one heck of a trailing job.

The blood-trailing job we did on this buck was worthy of the books, but since I’m not writing a book, suffice it to say that it was a real nightmare.  It was also a true team-effort, since every time one of us would lose the trail, we’d mark the last spot and the others would spread out until someone else picked it up.  We trailed through bunchgrass meadows, juniper thickets, and over a wide, lava bed.  For the most part, blood sign was limited to spots the size of a pencil eraser. 

When we finally came up on the buck again, watching his backtrail from beneath a juniper, Nolan didn’t hesitate again.  Before I was even fully aware of what he was doing, the 7mm roared and the buck slumped from his hiding spot.  There was much rejoicing.

It turns out that Tom had somehow pulled his shot badly, and his bullet went through the “elbow” of the buck’s offside leg.  It was a crippling hit, but very likely would not have been fatal in itself.  Had we not found him though, the buck would most likely have died at the teeth and claws of coyotes within a few days.  I was thankful that we found him, and especially grateful that this father and son are true hunters with a strong sense of ethics.  They stuck with a blood trail that many people would have abandoned long before.    Kudos to the both of them!

Tom’s buck was a classic 4-by-4 with a 23 1/2″ spread.  Completely dressed and caped, the carcass weighed 148 lbs on the butcher’s hook, and I’m pretty sure it was close to 250 lbs live.  That’s one buck tag filled.  The weather moved in the following day, and deer movement seemed to shut down.  At the end of the day, Tom had to get back to the city for work, so he and Nolan packed up and headed out.  Nolan said he’d be back as soon as he could to see if we could fill his tag.

Stick around.  Nolan’s story is coming next and it really makes for one of the most rewarding hunts I’ve ever been involved with.

The epic version is on Jesse’s Hunting and Outdoors, so I’ll spare you the 3000 word version.  If you wanna read it, go on over and check it out.  (Registration may be required, but it’s free.)  Dave will be reprinting it, along with his own write-up, on the Coon Camp Springs site as soon as he gets a chance.  I’m working on video too, but will be waiting for some still photos from Josh.

So anyway, in a nutshell the hunting was really tough. 

It looked really promising, as I got a call from my partner, Dave, on the first evening.  One of his hunters tagged a really big forked-horn on the first afternoon.  Normally, you wouldn’t expect someone to pay for a guided hunt in the Eastern Sierra and then settle for a forked-horn, but the hunter, Jack, had specifically said he was looking for a really nice forkie to go with his other mounts (a 5×5 and several 4x4s).  This one definitely fit the bill, with a huge body that would easily go over 230lbs, and a spread in the neighborhood of 20 inches.

About halfway through the first week, a storm rolled through and it seemed like it simply washed the deer off of the property.  Tracks were washed away, and for the first day and a half after the storm, no new ones appeared.  Deer finally started to appear near the end of the first week, but we were unable to locate any shooter bucks for Jerry (Jack’s buddy).  They rolled out on Thursday morning, and I spent most of the rest of the day scouting the ranch to figure out where the deer had gone… with minimal success.

Arnie and Josh, a father and son team from Central California rolled in on Friday at around noon.  These would be “my” hunters, but Dave took them on an introductory drive after they unpacked, while I went back to scout some more.  During the drive, they had a great opportunity at a real nice 3×3, but since it was the first day, Josh decided to pass on the shot.

In all, we averaged seeing one buck per day, terrible ratio for this property, but all things considered, it worked out.  Josh took a really good 3×3 on Sunday (after a frighteningly long period of indecision as the buck stood and watched us from 225 yards), and Arnie ended up tagging a nice 3-pointer on the next-to-last day of his hunt. 

We didn’t take any monsters over the two-week hunting period, although Jack and Jerry did spot a really nice buck on the neighboring property.  Even so, everyone went home happy, and everyone had shot opportunities (Jerry passed up on several bucks, and Josh and Arnie passed on a couple as well). 

Here are Josh (on right) and Arnie with Josh’s buck.  Click for the full-size image.

But in the meantime, I’ve got time for this quick update. 

I’ve mentioned that things are pretty busy, hence the slowdown on HogBlog posts.  Well, besides my real job, I figured it’d be worthwhile just to let you all know what kinds of things are keeping me so busy around here.  I know it came as a shock to me, when I looked at my calendar and found myself booking and turning down hunts as far out as April, 2008!

This weekend is a light one.  I’ve gotta move a horse to a new stable on Saturday morning, then thinking I might take advantage of a B-zone deer tag to slip out for an evening and a morning hunt up in my old stomping grounds, Kokopelli Valley (not its real name, and not on a map).  Haven’t been there in a few years, and really miss the old place.  Who knows, but with the changing weather and some reports I’ve been hearing… there could be some swollen-necked bucks wandering around this weekend. 

October 19-21 I’ll be hunting hogs with Deedy Loftus and crew at the Bryson Hesperia Resort down in central CA.  In addition to trying to get a little hog blood on the new rifle, we’ll be filming some bowhunters there as well.  Hopefully we’ll see some really good footage, and who knows where that stuff might end up.  My little You-Tube site probably won’t be seeing much of this video… although I promise there’ll be some to share with any of you who want to see it.

As soon as I get back from Deedy’s it’s time to switch from my hunting hat to my guide hat, as I head up to Coon Camp Springs for a couple of weeks of guiding mule deer hunters.  Week one will consist mostly of scouting on horseback while my buddy, Dave, guides the first pair of hunters.  Should be a lot of good pictures and video from that.  The second week I’ll be in high gear, trying to get a father and son hunting team on a big, eastern-Sierra muley. 

After that, it’s off to Texas for a wedding.  Ya’ll won’t care much about that, although it sure would be cool if a hog hunt or something was to come out of that trip.  One never knows, does one? 

The holidays will be on us pretty quick after that, with Thanksgiving rapidly rolling into Christmas.  Holy cow!  Is anyone else as shocked as I am at how fast this year has gone by? 

I’ll squeeze in some waterfowl and pheasant hunts in that interim, and there’s currently a hog hunt at the Tejon Ranch planned too, if nothing comes up between now and then. 

Weekends have become a precious commodity, though, and there are some loved ones who are starting to have a hard time recognizing me when I come through the door. 

January brings more waterfowl, and a JHO hog hunt at Tejon Ranch later in the month.  I didn’t realize how much I had going on already when I scheduled that one, but it’s on the books now and I’m running it, so I guess I better go.  Dang. 

The first of February brings the 2008 SHOT Show, something I haven’t missed in about six years now.  It’s an opportunity for me to put my hands on all the new toys for the upcoming seasons, and a chance for you all to get a preview of what’s coming up in the hunting and shooting world.  I can promise pretty thorough coverage…or as thorough as one guy can provide.  It’s a BIG show.

I’ll be bowhunting Tejon again in February, then down to Texas in late March for exotics and hogs.  That takes me clean into the spring, and I haven’t even considered “local” hunting. 

Anyway, all that is somehow balanced with family life.  Fortunately for me, my loved ones recognize what an important part of my life this hunting thing is to me.  I’m also lucky enough that they will join me on occasion. 

So, yeah…. I’m busy.  But it’s a good busy, I suppose. 

The old poll definitely generated some interesting responses.  Seems like opinions were pretty evenly split, with about half of you agreeing that it’s OK to take a kid on a “guaranteed” hunt for a taste of success, versus the other half who thought a kid should have a “real” hunting experience and learn that killing something is a rare reward.  The final tally, for those who like numbers, was 23 in favor vs 22 against. 

As I said before, I am still a little ambivalent.  I’d hoped for some overwhelmingly convincing argument one way or another, but there ya go… that’s what makes it fun. 

I don’t think the new question is quite as tricky… more of a personal preference.  Do you “hunt horns”, or are you just out to fill the freezer?  Shoot the little ones or let them grow?  I’d love to hear if someone has an ethics aspect to their argument, one way or the other, though.  That should be interesting. 

As usual, I’ll let the poll run a while before I chime in with my own opinions.  Thanks, in advance, to all who participate! 

Oh well…

I’ve had the opportunity over the summer to put my hands on a couple of new products. 

First is the Black Hole archery target. 

I received a press release announcing the release of this new target just as my older target, The Block, was breathing its last (so to speak).  I needed a replacement, but I wanted something that would stand up to the big, Magnus broadheads I shoot from my recurve. 

Most of the targets I’d tried so far, including the Block, withstood the heavy onslaught of field points I generally sling, but when I started putting those two-blade daggers into the foam, I’d remove slices with almost every shot.  I totally destroyed my 3-D Delta deer, cutting it clean in half in the first six months I had it.  The Block held up better, but the target face was completely gone after a year. 

I received a test sample of the Black Hole early this spring, and started shooting right away.  As I’d feared, big slivers of foam came out each time I retrieved one of the broadheads from the target.  Still, the foam compressed and “self-healed” over the cut as it is supposed to do.   I didn’t shoot as much over the summer as I’d planned, but the target seems to be in pretty good shape. 

One of the things I particularly like about the Black Hole target is that it has a bunch of small aiming points of various sizes scattered across the target face, instead of the consistently spaced and sized bullseyes on some other block-styled targets.  To me, this lets me focus on picking a spot every time, rather than simply relying on spatial relationships (just aim at the center of the box) and getting lazy.  With other targets, once you figure out where the bull is, it’s easy to just start point shooting… a big mistake when you switch from targets to live animals. 

You can order the Black Hole for under $70 for a 24″x20″x14″ target, which is about par for this type of target.

The other item I had a chance to play with a bit this summer was a Konus Pro 3-9x44mm rifle scope. 

I’d initially contacted the Konus press representatives in order to try out one of their scopes on a project rifle I’d planned to put together for a hog hunt and article.  For the project, I was planning to use a rifle in the new .480 Ruger chambering, so I wanted something that would withstand a serious recoil.   Konus has engraved their reticle directly into the glass of the scope, so it should be impossible to dislodge the crosshairs…making it a good choice for a hard-kicking rifle. 

Unfortunately, the rifle part of the deal never came together, so the scope sat in the box on my desk for quite some time. 

Finally, I decided to replace the old Tasco 3-9x50mm on a Browning A-bolt 270, since the Tasco seemed to have some fogginess at higher magnification.  I used to be a big fan of Tasco scopes, but the last two I purchased sort of let me down.

The Konus is in the same price-range as the Tasco, retailing in the sub-$200 range (MSRP on the unit I tested is about $149), so I figured a comparison of these two should be fair. 

I found the clarity and brightness of the Konus to be a bit above that of the Tasco, even though the Tasco offers a 50mm objective vs the 44mm on the Konus.  I also thought the Konus maintained that clarity much better than the Tasco as I increased the magnification.  I even checked it against a couple of other Tasco scopes in my cabinet, and found that it was consistently clearer and brighter. 

Finally, I pulled out one of my Leupold VX-II scopes, in 3-9×40, just to see how the Konus stacked up against a higher-priced competitor.  From my unscientific perspective, and to my surprise, it measured up very nicely. 

I really had no good way to test the recoil-resistance of the scope, since the .270 barely kicks at all.  However, Konus offers a great guarantee to anyone who breaks the reticle, but since it is engraved into the glass, it seems unlikely that anyone will collect on that one. 

Another new product, at least for me, is the Magnus Stinger, four-blade broadheads. 

I’ve been shooting Magnus two-blade broadheads since I started bowhunting, about three years ago.  They seem to perform well, although I’ve yet to harvest a big game animal with the bow.  The blades are very strong, though, and hold an edge through a good bit of abuse.  I actually shot one through a board and into a cinderblock wall, chipping the cinderblock without doing any damage to the blade.  That’s tough!

Anyway, I always liked the idea of the added cutting surface of a four-blade head, and the Magnus Stinger, with the bleeder blades looked like a good match.  I sent a trial packet to my brother, and after his success on a NC whitetail, I decided to try them myself. 

I had been shooting a 140 grain head, but the closest I could find in the Stinger is a 150 grain.  It wouldn’t hurt me to go up a little, since I’m planning to use these on elk next month.  That will take my total arrow weight up to around 549 grains (draw weight is 52lbs), and can only improve my penetration. 

In target practice so far, the Stingers have performed wonderfully.  I barely noticed a difference in the trajectory or impact over the 140 grain field points I have been shooting.  I also found that they don’t plane like the two-blades when I flub my release…as long as I don’t flub it too bad.  The two-blades were really sensitive to that, which makes sense, I guess.

Anyway, the true test will come in two weeks, when I will try to slip one of these broadheads behind the shoulder of a Colorado elk.  I’ll be sure and report back on that.

Finally, I just want to mention the products from Gun Safety Innovations. 

I don’t do a lot of treestand hunting since I’ve moved to California, but it was almost all I ever did back in North Carolina, and it’s what I do whenever I go back for whitetails.  Generally, I’d use a plain old piece of parachute cord to pull my gun or bow into the tree, and that seemed good enough.  But once the gun is up there, I’d untie it.  More than once, I came real close to dropping my rifle from the stand (particularly after nodding off on a slow afternoon).  My brother actually did drop his rifle once, muzzle-down in the mud.  It cost him a deer that afternoon, but could have cost him much worse.

Gun Safety Innovations has developed and is marketing the Gunslinger, a simple but innovative piece of safety equipment, designed to keep your rifle off of the ground.  It’s basically a shock-absorbing safety line that attaches unobtrusively to your gunstock. 

It’s a great idea, but one of the drawbacks is that many of us, especially in the southeast, hunt from stands that are waaayy up in the tree, and the Gunslinger is too short for our purposes.  Not to worry, now you can get the Gunslinger Extender. 

Read more about Gunslinger and the Extender on Kristine’s blog, Hunt Smart, Think Safety.

Well, that should keep your credit card busy for a little while. 

I don’t want to make light of it, but really… is this news?

Actually, it looks like this is going to be another pretty tough year all across the West.  It’s only July, and the smoke is already getting thick.  There are serious fires in CA, ID, UT, CO, and MT. 

For those of you in CA, the California Department of Forestry (CDF) has an excellent site with maps, impacted areas, and updates.  You can view it here:  http://cdfdata.fire.ca.gov/incidents/incidents_current.  There’s also an excellent blogspot for fire discussion online at http://calfire.blogspot.com/.

We’re keeping an eye on things at Coon Camp Springs, and our fingers are crossed that we don’t end up with one of these things there this year.  I know it would probably be a good thing in the long run, but we’ve done an awful lot of work up there that just doesn’t need a fire right now.

Anyway, over the weekend one of my goals was to do a little scouting.  We have established one active travel and feeding route, but I have been a little uptight about where to go once we hunt that area.  There are more deer on the property, and I intended to figure out where they were hanging out.  And I did… and I have the pictures to prove it. 

So, these aren’t hogs…they’re HAWGs.  Or at least one of them is.  With a solid month or more of growth left, though, none of these fellas are going lacking.

They don’t hang around long, and getting a good photo through the underbrush is a little tricky.   Seriously though, look at this guy!

They don’t wait around long. 

And here’s one more look at the big-daddy!  Thunderhoof, watch out!